


Stumbling

by Kim Gasper (mickeym)



Series: Different Roads, Different Directions [5]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-10-06
Updated: 1997-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-08 18:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/Kim%20Gasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life gets even more interesting when Jim decides to go back to school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stumbling

I hated doing the homework.

That was the most defining thing about my first couple of weeks back into the academic life.  How in the hell had Blair done this for so many years?  I never enjoyed paperwork and this was like paperwork times ten.  Still, being a student again was oddly exhilarating--once I got used to my classmates.

I was definitely the oldest in all my classes, a fact which Blair teased me over mercilessly.  He thought it was great--once *he* got used to the idea of me in school. 

That month between when I announced my desire and when classes started were too funny.  I didn't think it was that funny at the time, although looking back it was hysterical.  Blair divided his time between being overjoyed that I'd found something to hold my interest and being dismayed that it wasn't in a 'protector' type area.  I pointed out that conducting the self-defense courses fell into that category and that I was more than content with the way things were.  He wasn't so certain.

"What if you get halfway through the course and decide that you *really* don't want to do this--that you still want to be a cop?"

We were stringing lights on the Christmas tree when he threw that question at me.  I stopped what I was doing and stared at him.  "What, you never changed your mind about anything?"

"I'm not saying that, and we're not talking about me.  This is *you*, Jim.  You don't make impulsive decisions like this, that's my arena.  I just want you to be sure."

"I am sure, babe.  It feels right.  It all feels right."

He shook his head and passed me the next string, but didn't say anything else about it.

I really was baffled by it all.  Here I'd gone and done something that *was* pretty out of character and I had figured he'd be thrilled.  The anal one finally relaxes somewhat.  Instead, he was acting as if I was doing something that could be construed as a criminal act.  I didn't get it.

I waited until Christmas Eve to ask him about it.  We were stretched out on the couch, him propped against me, between my legs.  Our favorite position.  Both of us were mellow from several cups of egg nog that was more nog than egg, and the fire and music.

"Man, I love this song," he sighed, leaning his head back against my chest.

We were listening to Neil Diamond's version of 'The Little Drummer Boy'.  I had to admit that Neil did a pretty good rendition of it.  I muttered something that sounded agreeable, then wrapped my arms around him.

"Blair."

He tensed slightly in my arms.  "Uh-oh."

"What?"

"You usually only call me 'Blair' when it's something serious."

I smiled, though he couldn't see it.  "Well, it is, kind of.  Why are you so against me going back to school?"

He sighed.  "Are we back to this again?  Man, I told you, it's your life."

"Yes, we're back to this again, because I don't buy it.  You've never since I've known you been willing to just let something be.  Generally you're worse than a dog with a bone."  I threaded my fingers through his and squeezed.  "C'mon, babe.  What's really on your mind?"

He heaved another sigh.  "I don't know that anything's actually *wrong*, Jim.  It just feels weird, you know?  Almost like we've exchanged roles, or something.  I'm the one working full time and you're the one in school with the part-time stuff going on."  He shook his head, curls burnished gold from the fire light.

"It is kind of weird," I agreed.  "But it's okay, isn't it?"

"God, like *I* could criticize?  I'm the reason you're having to find something else to do, after all."

My turn to sigh.  "Would you get over that?  We made that decision together, Chief.  I *wanted* to come with you.  I didn't want us separated any more than you did."

"I just feel like...I don't know what I feel like, man.  I've been confused every day since we got here.  On one hand, I'm loving it.  I love teaching, being part of the academic life on the inside.  On the other hand, I feel so guilty over everything."  He turned in my arms and faced me, kneeling on the couch.  "I just want everything to be all right for you, Jim.  I love you so much and you gave up so much for me."

"Bull," I whispered, pulling him close to kiss him lightly.  I continued,  "I didn't give up anything, because I still have you.  Keeping the job would have meant losing you and that was a price I wasn't willing to pay.  Okay?  I'm *fine* where we are.  No, that doesn't mean I don't ever miss being a cop; or that I don't get homesick for Cascade once in a while, but I like Flagstaff, I love our cabin...and I think I'll like school, too."

He leaned down and stole another kiss from me, whispered "Happy Christmas, lover," against my lips before deepening the kiss.

I pulled him tighter against me body, enjoyed the rising heat from his body.

"Let's take this upstairs, babe," I murmured when he released me. 

He nodded agreement and moved off the couch to stand there, gazing down at me.  "Love you, Jim," he said as he offered his hand.  I took it and pulled myself up.

"I love you too, Blair Sandburg.  And I'm *not* letting you have any more rum--it makes you moody."

He smiled and guided me toward the stairs and our bedroom.  Christmas came a little earlier then, as we unwrapped our presents under the warmth of an electric blanket and shared them with each other.

*           *           *           *

I shook my head to clear it and checked my watch.  It was 12:45 p.m. and I was done with classes for the day.  Blair generally kept office hours between one and two on Thursdays, so I headed across the campus to find him.  Maybe I could coax him to come home early and laze in bed with me for a while.  Just the thought was enough to bring a smile to my face.

I heard his heartbeat as soon as I opened the door to the building.  His breathing was the next sound to impinge on my awareness.  Both were fast, hard and out of control, like they get when he's very angry or really scared.  Or a combination of both.  I shot up the stairs like a bullet, expecting to find someone assaulting him, or something else seriously wrong.

What I found was a white-faced, shaking, extremely pissed-off professor.

"Blair?"

It took him a minute to register that I was there.

"Jim.  Oh, god, Jim."  He kind of flung himself into my arms, hard enough to drive me backward with an "oof!"

"Hey, what's wrong, Chief?"  I squeezed him tight, then pushed him back gently, trying to see his face.  "Blair?  What is it?"  His heart was still beating so fast it was scaring me.

"Take a look on my desk," he responded in a low voice, moving from my arms to pace the floor again.

I walked across the small room and peered down at the sheet of paper lying in the center of his blotter.  It was a note, typed on plain white paper.

                        "We don't want you here, queer!  Go back to wherever

                        fags like yourself come from."

No signature, no defining characteristics.  I sighed, feeling very troubled.

"It was in my mailbox this afternoon when I stopped to pick things up after my last class.  Larry said there were people in and out all day putting mail in, so there's no way to tell who might have put it there."  He stared at me, fists clenched.  "*God*, I hate this!  I hate the fact that people feel like they can judge a person based on who that person sleeps with.  It's none of anybody's fucking business who I sleep with!  Just you and me, no one else!"

"Have you gotten any other notes like this before now?"  I was trying to push my anger down, but it wasn't easy.  The more riled he got, the more I got, too.  We're that connected.

He shook his head.  "Just this one.  That's enough."

"I agree."  I closed my eyes.  When I reopened them, he was still staring at me, his own eyes troubled.  "You should report this to the campus police, babe.  They need to know.  It's like the same cowardly bastard who raped Sonya."

"Probably is," he returned, his mouth turned down in a grim line.  He picked up his phone and dialed.

I tuned out the conversation and stared out his window at the trees.  The only color against the white of the snow was the green of the fir trees.  Everything else was barren, including the sky.  It was an dark, angry looking gray--it looked like I felt.  There was no peacefulness for me at that moment, looking outward.  I turned inward, finding the same.

Blair had told me many times during our professional partnership that I was a Sentinel, the protector of the tribe.  I readily accepted that, but was exercising it in different ways now.  But someone had just threatened more than my tribe; they had threatened my mate.  No one did that.  I breathed through my nose, trying to push the anger down.  I could sense the panther pacing the room with us.

To give them credit, the campus police were quick in responding to Blair's call.  I was still staring out the window when they arrived.  A familiar voice greeted Blair then called to me.

"Jim Ellison?"

I turned around, felt my mouth drop open in surprise.  "Patrick Henley!  Man, it's been, what, about fifteen years?"

"Something like that.  You look like life's been treating you well."  He stuck his hand out and I grasped it, shaking it firmly.

Patrick was one of the first 'buddies' I had in the Army; he'd been an experienced Specialist when I first joined as a raw recruit.  He took me under his wing--and into his bed--and helped make things a little easier for me.  I hadn't seen him in at least the fifteen years I was guessing.

He didn't appear to have aged much, although I knew he was about four years older than me.  "How're you doing, Henley?  Up to the same old shit?"

"Naw, man.  You'd hardly know me now.  Got a wife and three kids at home."

My face must have revealed at least some of the shock I was feeling because he laughed.

"You're shittin' me, right?"

"Nope.  Been married for ten years now.  How about you?"

"I was married, once."

"And now?"

"I'm...involved," I said carefully.  When I knew him, Patrick had been happy being gay--well, as happy as you can be in a predominantly homophobic society.  I wondered what had happened.

His eyes flashed over to Blair, talking to the other officer that had shown up. "Good for you, Ellison."

I smiled slightly, couldn't help it.  "Yeah."  I led him over to where Blair was talking to the other man.  "Blair?  This is an old buddy of mine, Patrick Henley."

"Dr. Sandburg--nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, Sargent," Blair responded, shaking Patrick's hand.

"So, what's been happening here to bring you such lovely mail?"  Patrick moved next to his partner and I stood behind mine, offering moral support.

"I was just telling Officer Markson that the only incident I can think of that might have any bearing on this is that a student of mine hit on me last week and I turned her down."

I turned sharply toward him.  "What?!  When were you planning on telling me?"

"I wasn't," he answered quietly.  "There was no need."

My hands reached out of their own accord and grabbed him by his shoulder, my fingers biting deep into skin and tissue.  He winced slightly and I released him.  "Sorry, babe," I muttered, embarrassed over losing control like that.

"S'okay, Jim."  He took my hand and returned his attention to Patrick's questions.

I stood there in his office and listened as he told about a student of his who'd done all but stalk him last semester, inviting him out time and again for coffee, lunch, whatever.  How he'd turned her down, gently, but firmly.  Then last week she'd apparently upped the ante and asked Blair if he wanted to go out--out as in a date, he explained.  When he turned her down yet again she grew angry and asked him why he wasn't interested.  He said he explained that aside from being unethical, he was involved with someone.  She responded that whoever he was involved with couldn't possibly be as good for him as she'd be, that any other woman would be second rate.  His response was that he was involved with a man.

"What'd she say or do then?" Officer Markson asked.

"She stared at me for a long time, then turned and left the room.  She didn't say anything.  Not to me, anyway."

"Thank you, sir."  Markson turned to me then.

"And what is your role in all this, sir?"

"I'm the one he's involved with."

"Thank you, sir."

Markson and Patrick left shortly after that, but not before Patrick wrangled a promise out of me that we'd come to his house for dinner.  I gave him our phone number and promised.

*           *           *           *

I drove us home and Blair fumed the whole way.  I was angry too, but wasn't sure how to express it without it feeding into the guilt that he was still carrying around, despite his promise to me to let it go.

Because of all the snow we had on the ground it took us over an hour to get home.  Both of us were tired and stressed out, so we passed on dinner and plopped on the couch, sitting next to each other, drawing strength from one another.

"Why didn't you tell me about her?"  I asked, still a little hurt that he hadn't said anything.

"There really wasn't anything to tell, man.  She hung around a lot, asked me out for coffee.  Nice kid, but kind of annoying.  I could tell she had a crush on me, but figured it'd just fall by the wayside."

"Oh, yeah, you're so easy to forget," I responded sarcastically.

He turned to face me.  "What's your problem?"  His voice sounded a little testy.

"What's my problem?  I'll tell you! We're supposed to be best friends and soul mates and all the rest of that...but you can't tell me about some student who's stalking you?  What's wrong with this picture?"

He closed his eyes.  When he opened them and looked at me again they were shining.  "I'm sorry, Jim," he managed.  "I didn't think it was worth telling, because it was kind of like a mosquito bite.  Annoying, kind of there when you didn't want it to be, but harmless."

"But I'm your Blessed Protector!" I blurted out.

"Yeah, big guy, you are.  But there was nothing to protect me against!  Get it?  I still don't know that there is.  We don't know for a fact that she sent the note--although I know it was a hell of a shock for her when I told her."

"How do you know?"  I asked, suspicious.

"I could see her face.  She went dead white."

"Oh."  I got up to pace a little, feeling the need to release some excess energy.  I felt combative, needed to hit something, do something.

"Want to go for a walk?"  My lover's voice, low-pitched, warm, loving.  Right next to me.  I shook my head mutely and put my arms around him, holding on, knowing he'd help me ride out the storm of emotion flowing through me.

We just stood there, holding on to each other, for a long time.  Finally I felt the emotions of the day begin to dissipate a little and I relaxed, loosening my hold on him.

"Mmm."  He turned into me, molded himself against me.  I raised one hand to stroke his hair, lowered the other to cup his ass.  "Mmm...feels good, Jim," he murmured against my chest.

"You feel good, baby," I whispered as he gripped my ass, hanging on to me.  "I love how you feel against me."

"Ahh...yeah..."  He moaned and wiggled his hips a little, rocked his rapidly-growing erection against my groin.  I groaned into his hair.

"Yeah...ohhh..."  he sighed and tilted his head back, sighed again in pleasure when I licked his lips.

"You like that, babe?"

"Oh, yeah."

I leaned down to kiss him, slid my hands down inside the waistband of the loose sweats he was wearing, cupped his ass closer.  "No underwear?  Brazen little thing, aren't you?" I whispered against his throat.

"For you, babe," he growled, rubbing his hard length against mine.  I groaned as the pleasure knifed through me.

"Bedroom," I moaned when he ran his fingers down my zipper, caressing the hardness beneath it.

He took me this time.  I knelt before him, naked and exposed, hiding nothing of myself from him.  He opened me with tongue and fingers, stroking, teasing and caressing until I was shuddering from the pleasure, begging him in a raw voice to fuck me.

His cock sliding into me was like a white-hot bolt of lightening that rushed through me, searing everything in it's path.  I groaned and thrust back at him, pleading for more.  He gave it to me, hard and fast.  I stroked myself in time with his thrusts until he knocked my hand away and finished me off himself, squeezing and stroking until I came with a strangled cry, wordless but for his name.

He hardened further within me just before warm fluid flooded into me.  I shuddered again under the onslaught and collapsed forward on the bed, Blair still buried deep within me, following me down.

We laid there for some time, harsh pants the only sound in the quiet room save for the crackle of the fire from downstairs.  My breathing slowly calmed down and we shifted so that we were lying holding each other.  Blair closed his eyes, making small noises of contentment as I nuzzled at his forehead.  I was warm, drowsy and content and had *almost* fallen asleep when I remembered the backpack still sitting on the floor of the truck.

"Shit!  I have biology homework to do!"  My exclamation startled  Blair and he jumped slightly; he'd been nearly sleep, I guess.

"Mmm," he muttered.  "Guess you'd better go get it, huh?"

"Yeah," I sighed.  "I guess so."  I rolled up onto one elbow.  "Come down with me?"

One smoky-blue eye opened.  "Why?"

"So I'm not suffering alone?"

The other eye opened.  "Oh, *that's* a reason."

"Hey, it works for me."

He smiled.  "Okay, what the hell.  I'm hungry, now."

It was nice to have company while I suffered through the endocrine and reproductive systems.

*           *           *           *

We never did figure out who sent the note.  A couple of weeks passed and nothing more happened, so maybe it wasn't what we thought it was.  Maybe just someone being an asshole, nothing more, nothing less.

Not as much stumbling after that, as we slowly started to *really* adjust to our new lives.  But there's plenty of time to talk about that later.

~finis~


End file.
